Tag: Pat Gleason

Detour (1945, Edgar G. Ulmer)

Detour should be episodic, but it's not. The film chronicles the misadventures of Tom Neal's night club pianist, who's stuck not being good enough for Carnegie Hall and having a fickle fiancée (Claudia Drake) from the outset. When he does decide to follow her out to her dreams in California, instead of saving bus fare, he hitchhikes and things go badly for him.

Along the way–and even from the opening bookend (Detour's almost entirely in flashback)–he runs across interesting people and situations. And even though Martin Goldsmith's script has some great stuff in it, neither director Ulmer nor Goldsmith turn these little encounters into vignettes. They're part of a lengthy narrative, with Neal doing a voiceover for the whole thing. The result is a seventy minute picture with some boring spots, which it shouldn't have.

Part of the problem is how long it takes Detour to define itself. The script has a full first act setting up Neal's uninteresting back story. He's a whiny jerk, Drake isn't likable, Ulmer doesn't have to budget to do big club scenes–but Goldsmith's script does make it all interesting. Neal doesn't even give a good performance.

Things start getting interesting after the hitchhiking montage when Edmund MacDonald picks up Neal. MacDonald's a real creep; it softens Neal up a bit. But he's just a MacGuffin to get Ann Savage into the picture. She's a realistically, thoughtfully conceived evil human being. Savage is occasionally histrionic, but she makes Detour special.

Otherwise, it'd just be boring.

1.5/4★½

CREDITS

Directed by Edgar G. Ulmer; screenplay by Martin Goldsmith, based on his novel; director of photography, Benjamin H. Kline; edited by George McGuire; music by Leo Erdody; produced by Leon Fromkess; released by Producers Releasing Corporation.

Starring Tom Neal (Al Roberts), Ann Savage (Vera), Claudia Drake (Sue Harvey), Edmund MacDonald (Charles Haskell Jr.), Tim Ryan (Nevada Diner Proprietor), Esther Howard (Diner Waitress) and Pat Gleason (Joe).

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Criminal Court (1946, Robert Wise)

If you took a film noir and removed the noir, you might have something like Criminal Court. The plot is noir. An upstanding attorney (Tom Conway) accidentally kills mobster (Robert Armstrong) and runs off, unknowingly leaving his girlfriend (Martha O’Driscoll) to take the wrap.

What does Conway do? Does he try to falsify evidence to save his girlfriend? Does he sacrifice? Nope. He confesses and when no one believes him, he sort of just sits passively through the rest of the movie and hopes something will make it all better.

There’s no angst, no guilt. Conway even tells the district attorney he didn’t report the incident because Armstrong brought it on himself. It is, apparently, an attempt to mix noir with righteousness. And, wow, does it fail.

What makes Court so awkward is what it does with the space left empty by the lack of internal conflict. It does nothing. The movie only runs an hour. It doesn’t try comedy, it doesn’t try introducing a subplot (there aren’t any in the film), it doesn’t try anything at all.

Until Armstrong dies, Criminal Court has a lot of potential. Armstrong’s just great here. Conway’s fine, but unable to overcome the script. O’Driscoll’s writing is worse, but her performance is still weak.

The supporting cast is excellent, Steve Brodie and Joe Devlin in particular.

Wise’s direction has occasional flourishes–a dolly shot here and there–but it’s fairly static and unimaginative overall, as though he couldn’t feign interest either.

Cute finale though.